Prompt: When ectoplasm is used to power one of the Fenton’s devices, it can borrow ghost zone physics.
“Wow, so how’s this one supposed to work?” Bruce Wayne picked up the small silver device, examining it. It was about the size of a hockey puck, with a handle welded to the top that looked like it had originally belonged to a dresser. The handle was wrapped in simple black electrical tape with a small button on the side.
“Oh! That table of stuff is not for sale,” the red-head walked briskly over, wringing her hands, “those are just some of my brother’s projects, they’re not related to ghost hunting.”
The convention had, up until that point, been boring. Tim had disappeared about an hour ago, meeting up with a couple of friends who were also attending the Scientific, Paranormal, & Occult, Occupational Convention, or “SPOOC.” An attempt at a play on words, Bruce supposed.
Barbara had alerted him that an up-and-coming company, Axiom Laboratories, had announced some pretty cutting edge tech that could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. Bruce had attended the demo this morning, only to leave unimpressed. Only one of their four inventions had actually worked, and even then barely did what was advertised.
Aside from waiting for Tim to be done hanging out with his friends, Bruce had surprisingly found several start-ups that were developing some promising technology, as far as ghost-hunting equipment could be considered “promising.” The latest booth he was exploring had been pointed out to him as having “some kind of crazy idea they’ve perfected renewable energy,” which while Bruce was wary of most of the people peddling wares here, peaked his interest. So far, however, it had been a disappointment.
The girl held out her hand for the device and Bruce gave it back. “Do you know what it does?”
The girl gave him a guarded look, and he held up his hands and grinned. “Just curious!”
She glanced around the booth, the only other occupants were a couple dressed like they were late for a shift at the nuclear power plant, gas masks and all. The husband, an absolute mountain of a man, seemed to be knitting while his wife flipped through a paranormal magazine. She turned back to Bruce, sticking out her hand.
“Jazz Fenton; my parents own Fentonworks.”
“Nice to meet you Jazz. I’m Bruce Wayne.”
Her eyes widened, and she blinked owlishly at him. “Oh! Like, Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne?”
He went for a disarming grin. “The one and only, hopefully?”
She let out a laugh that was probably more nervous than it was meant to be, and glanced over at the couple again. “Just to warn you, if my parents spot you, you’ll be stuck her for the rest of the day while my dad rants about ghosts.”
“Noted. So if that’s not a ghost hunting device, what is it?”
Jazz fidgeted with the silver hockey puck, plucking at the edge with her fingernail. A hatch popped open, revealing a small switch. She flicked it and popped the hatch closed.
“It’s a prototype gravity binder. Uses gravitational force to stick itself to the ground. I think.” She held it out over the floor in front of Bruce, and he took a step back. Jazz carefully checked the ground below before hitting the button and dropping it.
It hit the ground at Bruce’s feet and he looked at her, unimpressed. Jazz grinned. “Pick it up.”
Bruce quirked an eyebrow, but bent down to the small device. An audible humming was coming from it, and it almost felt like it was vibrating slightly as Bruce gripped the handle.
“Be careful not to push the button again. That turns it off,” Jazz said.
Bruce reached down and grabbed the black handle.
It didn’t budge.
Bruce frowned, gripping it with both hands and pulling. It was as if the small device had been bonded to the floor. He looked back up at Jazz, who had a wry grin on her face.
“Now, hit the button.”
Bruce did so, and the humming immediately stopped, the device powering down. He hesitantly picked it up from the floor, unable to stop the surprise that bloomed across his face as it now only weighed a few ounces, like before. The floor where it had fallen was undamaged and unmarked.
Bruce handed the device back to Jazz, “Alright, color me impressed. How does it work? I’m pretty sure this thing breaks several laws of physics.”
Jazz simply shrugged, placing it back on the side table with several other devices that Bruce couldn’t begin to guess the purpose of. “My brother is more into the engineering and sciencey part of the family business. You’ll have to ask him once he gets back. That is, if he didn’t ditch me to explore the city.” The last part was grumbled under her breath.
Bruce looked back at the device. Had Bruce seen some crazy stuff in his time in the Justice League? Absolutely. He had three different friends who used magic on a daily basis. But no other League independent company had anything close to this kind of tech, let alone a family business that specialized in ghost hunting, of all things.
“I think I’d like to meet your brother. I’m going to be honest, this is unbelievably impressive. Has he ever thought about applying for the engineering and development internship at Wayne Enterprises?”
A contemplative look passed over Jazz’s face. “Honestly, Mr. Wayne? My brother Danny is smart, and a talented inventor. But I’m not sure that kind of thing would be his style. I’ve been pushing him to start thinking about college now that he’s graduating soon, but he seems pretty convinced he’s going to be stuck in Amity Park working for my parents for the rest of his life. Not that he doesn’t care about the family business, but...” She trailed off, glancing back over at her parents. Some poor soul had wandered a little too close to the front of the booth, and Bruce could hear the couple yapping non-stop about ghosts. “He does need to spend some time away from it.”
“What are you proposing?”
Jazz drummed her fingers against the table. “I’m in my second year at Gotham U. Danny’s going to be eighteen next year, but refuses to apply to any colleges because of his grades. He... well, let’s just say there were some extenuating circumstances that caused it.” She shook her head, “He’ll probably end up at community college living at home, at least if I can convince him to stay in school. He won’t be able to get into GU with his grades, but if you’re really interested in his work...”
“You think I could get him an acceptance letter?”
“God no!” she blanched, “But I could probably get him to apply with a letter of recommendation from the owner of Wayne Enterprises. He’s smart, and a quick learner for sure, but after... the stuff in high school, he’s convinced himself his life is already over.”
“Hmm,” He’d have to do a little research on the brother, make sure her ‘extenuating circumstances’ checked out, but Bruce started to wonder if this was his lucky day. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll be back at the convention tomorrow, and I’ll drop by the booth around 10am. If your brother can give me a better demo than any other scientist here, I’ll write the letter.” He smiled, handing her one of his business cards, “and I promise that will be a low bar to pass.”
“Thank you, thank you so much Mr. Wayne!” Jazz grinned, taking the card and shaking his hand. “Danny will be here.”
...
“Hey Bruce!” Tim finally caught up with him outside the convention center. “So, what did you think of ‘SPOOC’? Bust any ghosts?”
Bruce smiled at him, shaking his head, “No, but I think I just found an intern for Lucius Fox.”
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fluff, gender neutral.
belphie can hardly believe he hadn't noticed how deep and lovely the color your eyes were until this very moment.
but then again, in loving you so completely, he was constantly learning about you.
you're nestled snugly in his bed, head resting on the softest pillow he could find and had purchased exclusively for you to use, the rest of your body nearly lost in his cloudy, downy comforter and the countless other fluffy pillows that resided with it to ensure he had the warmest, most soothing place in all of the house to rest and take his beloved naps.
along with you, of course.
he'd never admit that any time he thought to add a new accessory to his little sanctuary, he thought of your comfort first, wondered and hoped that it would entice you, too.
judging by how much time you spend in his bed or in his attic nook with him, he figures it's working.
you blink slowly at him, and he doesn't think slumber has ever looked so charming, the way it clings to your droopy eyelids, to your warm, subtle little smile upon catching him staring at you, admiring you openly.
"hi," you whisper, soft and cautious, as if it isn't late in the afternoon, as if the rest of the world wasn't already wide awake, evidenced in the ruckus his brothers were making somewhere in the house.
the noise is distant, fading out the longer belphie looks at you, studies your smile, savors the warmth of your hand snaking beneath the comforter to find his own and tangle your fingers together. you let him admire you for a moment, long enough for him to pick out all the little flecks of color in your eyes, to marvel at your beauty, as if you'd dropped out of heaven only a moment before and not just woken up from the depths of a nap that had mussed up your hair to the point of no return.
"hi," he says finally, mirroring your secretive little grin, closing the mere distance between you to press his lips to your forehead. he lets you tug him even closer, lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders so he can rest his head on your chest.
if he's completely honest, this is his favorite resting place, his ear right against the steady thrum of your heart, wrapped up in your warmth so wholly, his entire body molds to you. perfectly, like you were made for him.
you soothe your fingers through his hair, scratch gently at his scalp in that way he loves, that makes him want to purr with contentment.
you're too sweet to him, he thinks, refuses to believe he could ever deserve you, especially after everything he's put you through.
despite it all, you show him nothing but kindness, compassion, love.
belphie turns his head slightly, only to press kisses to your sternum, up the exposed skin by your collar. you giggle softly at the tickle of his hair, kiss the top of his head in return, and it's all he can do not to melt in your arms.
"i love you," he says between more kisses, more whispers of your laughter, and he can't help it, he's overcome with emotion, he repeats it into your skin until you're squirming away, begging him to stop tickling you with his breath on your delicate skin.
he loves you, and he can hardly believe he's still surprised by the growing depth of that sentiment every passing day that you're with him.
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